


Lucky 19

by thawrecka



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-10-13
Updated: 2002-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thawrecka/pseuds/thawrecka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gave him a nightmare worse than his own. Spoilers for Nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky 19

It sounds like a dream, doesn't it? A beautiful girl come to save me from myself. It was a dream, or the end of a nightmare at least. Her name was Buffy and she had dark blonde hair and the kind of figure that would later star in my favourite fantasies.

She saved me from my nightmare world but she gave me hers.

 

For a long time I had nightmares about the coach. In my dreams he would escape from prison and hunt me down, getting his revenge for locking him away. Sometimes he killed me after the game, instead of putting me in a coma. I always woke up, though, and he never came to get me.

Slowly, from the depths of my subconscious, other nightmares made themselves known.

Buffy's nightmare world was so real, vivid colours of night. She knew the graveyard like it was a second home. She showed me the dark green grass, the shiny grey headstones and the fall of moonlight on the graves. Her dark place was darker than mine, and more real than any nightmare should be.

She also showed me the man of her bad dreams.

He wasn't as ugly as The Ugly Man but he was terrifying enough. His face was place and wrinkled, shaped similar to a vampire bat. His nails were long and sharp like claws. His eyes black and cold, but with a frightening intelligence underneath. He moved in black leather, powerful and strong.

Sometimes in my dreams he would drink her dry, red blood spilling on to her neck. Sometimes he would snap her neck and leave her body slumped against a grave, her head at a strange angle. Sometimes he made her like him, those things that walk the night.

There were other dreams, worse dreams, her nightmare man doing nasty things to her body. He would come after me when he was done with her, or she would, with accusations in her eyes. They hurt me over and over again, doing things that made me feel sick to think of.

 

When she saved me she was vibrant and beautiful, with a smile like the sunrise.

I saw her the other day. At first I wasn't sure it was her. She looked tired and thin, like the colour had been drained out of her. I was too scared to go up to her. If her nightmares were that horrible the last we met, how bad must they be now? I don't want to know.


End file.
